


she was singing baby, come home

by Puffls



Series: Hold on Forever [4]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Pre-Canon, post-gaia sash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 01:56:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puffls/pseuds/Puffls
Summary: The lieutenant chases the thief.It's not a game anymore.





	she was singing baby, come home

Here’s how the story goes.

The sound of footsteps pounding against the stone streets breathes a staccato beat against the silence of the night, the familiar song to the only dance they’ve ever known. The lieutenant chases the thief through the streets of Goldcliff – through alleyways and over rooftops, matching step for step and breath for breath along routes they’ve traced a hundred times before.

It’s a game they’ve played for days, for months, for years: the lieutenant chases the thief through the streets of Goldcliff. There was a point at the very beginning where it wasn’t a game, but they’ve been playing this game of cat and mouse for too long to take it seriously at this point. The lieutenant chases the thief, and the thief gets away, the glint of diamond sparkling in whatever light the sky offered as she dangles the necklace in clear sight from the safety of her perch. She crows in victory, teasing with sharp words and insults while the lieutenant huffs with annoyance below, though they both know to pull apart the front to find the affection in their voices, the fondness in their words. And though the thief may have gotten away with her valuable, the lieutenant treasures the sliver of a smile that slips below her mask before she slinks off into the night.

The lieutenant chases the thief, and the lieutenant succeeds in catching her, arms wrapping tight around her waist as she presses her against the brick wall of a dead end. A veil of black hair falls loose around her shoulders as the raven mask is pushed upwards as lips meet lips, already breathless from the chase. The pounding of blood in their ears replaces the beat of their footsteps, the rush of adrenaline through their veins drowning out their surroundings to a world of only two. The lieutenant gently pries the pendant from the thief's grasp while their laughter fills the air with song. And when the lieutenant returns to the militia, she presents the bauble with a lie to keep them both safe.

A thousand times, she’s run from her. A thousand times, she’s run to her. It’s a game they play by choice; a single word is all it would take to end it. The lieutenant doesn’t need to chase after the thief when they both know she’ll find her climbing through her apartment window at midday, find her draped across her couch and snoring by late afternoon. The thief doesn’t need to run from the lieutenant when they both know she’d never turn her in, never do anything to disrupt their partnership – _relationship_ without her best interests at heart.

The thief runs from the lieutenant the way she did before it became a game to them both, like they hadn’t spent hours upon hours with the memory etched into the muscles of their legs. The lieutenant chases the thief, hurt and confused and unable to pinpoint the moment where everything changed, _why_ everything changed.

 

Here’s how the story goes.

The lieutenant chases the thief, and the thief gets away.

“Sloane!”

Her voice cuts through the night as sharp as the blade that carved the crescent sliver of the moon in the sky. And though the moon is blotted out by heavy gray clouds that suffocate the world with humidity, it cuts through the leather of her jacket, the thicket of thorns that made their home inside of her head and give her clarity for just a moment. It’s enough to make the thief – to make _Sloane_ give pause, to turn her head so she could see the lieutenant – _Hurley’s_ face while she spoke.

“Come _home,_ Sloane,” Hurley repeats, voice hushing with creeping tendrils of desperation laced through each word. She wears the same expression she always wears when Sloane slips in through the window battered and bruised from battlewagon racing or militia interference alike: wrinkles creasing her forehead with the furrow of her brow, eyes wide in confusion, hurt, horror, the whites of her front two teeth just barely visible between parted lips. “I miss you.”

_I miss you too,_ Sloane wants to say, though the words stick in her throat like glue. She wants nothing more than to climb down from the ledge she’s perched on, for Hurley to wrap her arms around her waist and kiss her breathless, to meet up in her apartment and sleep through the hottest hours of the day on her couch. She’d give all the money in the world to give up and go home.

The thief is silent as she turns away from the lieutenant, slinking off into the night without turning back.

 

Here’s how the story ends.

Lieutenant Hurley is left by herself in an alleyway as the first drops of rain splatter against the stone street. There’s a storm of emotions that threaten to break through her chest like some awful parasite, and she wants – she wants to scream, to cry, to rip the metal badge from her uniform and throw it against the ground like the meaningless garbage it is. Because she doesn’t care about catching the Raven, hasn’t cared about the petty thievery ever since the thrill of the first chase, the game it’s become ever since. She joined the militia to help people, but she’s powerless to help the woman she loves if she doesn’t let her.

The rain falls around her, keeping time for an incomplete duet.

It’s not a game anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> you can pry these lesbians from my dead gay hands.
> 
> this was kinda an experimental thing written to get over some personal bullshit regarding the song Jet Pack Blues by Fall Out Boy (where the title comes from). i have absolutely no idea how i feel about how it turned out but im just gonna toss it out here regardless, Just Because. maybe ill love it later. maybe ill hate it later. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ who knows, maaan. no editing we die like men
> 
> my tumblr is [whimsicmimic](http://whimsicmimic.tumblr.com/) so gimme a shout over there and i'd be happy to talk about taz. maybe throw me a prompt or two if you'd like.


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